


Of Today and Tomorrow

by AvaCelt



Category: Gintama
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaCelt/pseuds/AvaCelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a different place, a different world- things would go just the slightest bit differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Today and Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> *This is an AU of the Memory Loss arc (chapters 50-52).

In a different place, a different world- things would go just the slightest bit differently.

And so, instead of ending up in a covert, bomb-making factory, Sakata Gintoki ends up as a toymaker and a delivery man at a shop south of Edo. He spends mornings slaving away at assembling dolls, miniature cars, and tops. In the afternoon, he delivers each of his creations. By nightfall, his hands are soaked in rose oil and wrapped in bandages, ready for the next day’s batch of parts in need of putting together.

Katsura Kotaro has a hand in it. At first, the silver haired amnesiac ends up at the factory looking for a job, but he’s already told the owner to spurn a certain, silver haired man. So he ends up at the toyshop. A shop with no connections to the freedom fighters, or even the Yorozuya he disbanded. Truly, a place with no memories.

* * *

In a different place, a different world- things continue to go differently.

“Sakanaya-san,” he hears a familiar voice say.

“Not Sakanaya, it’s Katsura!” He bellows out of habit. When he turns around, his rage begotten expression softens, and he remembers why he’s not Katsura today.

The silver haired man scratches his head, dead fish eyes gone and replaced with confused orbs instead. “The sign says you’re selling fish.” The man points at the sign Elizabeth is holding dutifully.

Katsura coughs into his sleeve. “Yes, sorry. Err, what would you like?”

The former samurai, no longer carrying his sword or donning his trademark white robes festooned to the side, points at the masu salmon sitting dead in the ice rack. Kats-  _Sakanaya-san_ \- wraps two into the rice paper before putting it in a plastic bag and handing it to the young man.

“How much is it?” It’s a simple question, but he can’t find it in himself to answer properly.

He clears his throat. “You can take the fish as an apology for my rude behavior.” He bows his head lightly. “Please, do come again.”

The old Sakata Gintoki would have been on his way by now, and surely back the next day. But this new one- this one without the memories of the old- bows in return.

“Thank you.” It’s as sincere as it is softly said.

* * *

 

In a different place, a different world- things start to look up, little by little.

When the silver haired man isn’t working, shopping for groceries, or reading one of those manga all the teenagers in his store are obsessed with - (He thinks maybe the old Sakata Gintoki might have enjoyed the black and white comics. The ones where the hero fights for his pride, his friends, and sometimes, for the love of his life.)- he relaxes in the park. Back against a tree, he sits with an ice cream cone and watches birds of the same color flutter above him. A few tweet, but others go about their business in quiet, and it’s the calmest it can be for him.

But then someone catches his attention. He gazes upon a shock of deep, dark black hair trailing almost down to the figure’s waist. When he catches a glimpse of the person’s face, he remembers it as the man who was wheedling others into the brothel behind him.

And one who had subsequently refused to care that Sakata Gintoki had lost his memories.

A few weeks ago, the previous Gintoki might have jumped the dark haired man and bashed his head against a wall for not helping him, but this new Gintoki just smiled sadly.

He thought that maybe being a bad employer in his past life also equated him in being the worst of friends. Why else then would the dark haired man refuse to even look him in the eye?

* * *

 

In a different place, a different world- they meet under unhealthy circumstances like the lifetime before.

The new Sakata Gintoki has a penchant for alcohol as much as he does for sweets. But this particular night, the chocolate wine is too far into his system, and he can’t make it back to his crummy apartment above the toy shop without getting mugged. So when the black haired beauty gets a hold of his waist, he complies as willingly as he would to an offer of free candy. And the shorter man drags him back to his little place with the monstrous duck trailing behind them as dutiful as ever. Even inebriated, the silver soul wonders how many times he’s happened upon the figure the last two months he’s lived alone above the shop.

When they finally stumble into the little room, the duck beats the futon while the dark haired man spoons water into his mouth. Once the sheets are ready, he feels himself being tucked in and the lights turning off.

He’s too tired to reach for the hand that’s leaving the comforter, so he opts for staring for a few minutes instead. Hair as dark as midnight ocher, and skin as pale and softly marred as worn marble. The man falls asleep first against his duck while Gintoki follows shortly afterward.

The duck and its master are gone when he awakes. There are his clothes- a simple gray robe and a pair of dark green hakama- and the rest of his mundane personal effects. They’ve left a bowl of rice, a plate of grilled fish, and two stubs of rock candy.

He, in return, finishes the food, cleans the plates and chopsticks, puts away the bedding, and learns the address of the hovel before leaving the district entirely and heading to work.

* * *

 

In a different place, a different world- they still end up together.

The silver souled man, only twenty-six, was only supposed to leave thank-you food on Katsura-san’s doorstep. He hadn’t expected to be greeted by the duck and led inside. The duck wasn’t supposed to give him homemade chocolate parfait and some more rock candy. He wasn’t supposed to promise he’d be back another day, just because he’d missed the dark haired man this time.

He wasn’t supposed to return four nights later to a duck-less hovel with its master sitting there, stitching skin and bandaging himself with candlelight to go. He wasn’t supposed to drop the bento on the wooden floor and spill its contents. He wasn’t supposed to run over and attempt to help the man when he was specifically asked to  _get the fuck out_.

He didn’t leave, and the duck returned within the hour with more supplies. Elizabeth, he’d learned, cleaned the mess of the food and left the two men to their devices. By now, the new Sakata Gintoki had an idea why this man stayed away from him. But he pressed for answers. Finally, pressed for his past.

He wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to aggravate the injured man, but he did, and the sword that came to his throat in response did nothing to stop him. A spark of the old Sakata Gintoki came to him. He wasn’t afraid.

“ _No.”_

He shouldn’t have, but he did. His pale lips pressed against chapped ones caked with blood.

Hands moved around frantically. The injured man’s robe came off easily, and then his hakama, his loin cloth. Bandage after bandage, scar after scar. He wanted to count them, look at them, but settled for letting his hands roam around them. They were so similar to his own. Those tiny pricks and cuts and lesions on his own skin that refused to leave with every bath. He’d remember. He’d remember through them. This man’s scars, his own scars. He’d remember.

He hurried out of his clothes and wrapped his legs around the shorter man’s waist and lifted himself. A sharp push later, he groaned as he felt himself being filled. He’d felt this before, he thought. Maybe, years ago. Maybe days before his accident. He didn’t know, but it felt right. It felt right when the man-

“ _Zura.”_

Another push and they began rocking back and forth. The name he’d never heard anyone say before began signing in his head. _ZuraZuraZuraZuraZuraZuraZura._ It felt so close, so familiar, so nice to say.

“Zura.” He breathes softly into the man’s ear, and he responds by quickening his pace. He feels his nails dig into the bandages and his legs tighten around the the battered man’s waist simultaneously. Sparks fly inside his eyelids, and he clutches onto the soaked skin and cloth as harshly as the man on top of him does his hip and his swollen manhood. When he feels the other spill himself inside him, he follows suit after subsequent jerks.

The blood soaked bandages need changing, the silver soul thought as the man rolled off him. He’d change them in a few hours, he thought, and lay his head on top of the other’s bruised chest and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, the man and the duck were gone. And every night afterwards when the new Sakata Gintoki returned, he didn’t see them once.

* * *

In a different place, a different world- things return to normal.

Sakata Gintoki’s memories return after an explosion in the conveyor belt of the toy shop. Kagura-chan and Shinpachi come barreling to his rescue, threatening the shopkeeper with umbrellas and a wooden sword. He goes home to their beat up second floor before going to the hospital.

A couple of days later, he’s digging his nose and his arm is in a cast again. His white robe is festooned on his side once more, and his craving for sugar hits a record high.

Then, one night, he leaves Shinpachi with a letter and tells them he has to pay a certain someone a visit before their next job. He ends up knocking on the door of a large warehouse. The men recognize him and let him in, thinking he’s finally come to his senses.

What they don’t expect is for him to stride straight to their leader and kiss him full on the lips.

“Zura.” He says, dead fish eyes and all.

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura!”

And everything goes back to the way it was.


End file.
